It's Easier To Be a Pessimist
by St.-Jimmy-is-dead
Summary: Dean Winchester has been lucky for most of the thirty-two years of his life. Survived times when people told him he wouldn't make it, rose to the occasion when everyone pushed him off, but now everything seems to be crashing down on him. (Rated M for future chapters)


**_A/N: Disclaimer - I do not own any of these characters, if that wasn't obvious. Just making sure, anyways._**

Dean Winchester was confused, to say the least. He graduated high school against all odds, he managed to raise his kid brother on his own after their father left them for dead, and he was able to recover from lung cancer, somehow. Sammy kept on telling him that he was, "truly blessed". Dean just thought he was a lucky son of a bitch and that the world was trying to pull one hell of a nasty prank on him. He knew that one day, he would wake up and there would be a voice in the back of his head saying, "oh, you thought that was it? Boy, do you have a surprise coming your way." And the elder Winchester knew that the surprise wouldn't be one he would enjoy. Instead of making him ecstatic, it would drain all the power out of his body and ruin him, because cancer is never enough; the universe has better plans for him. However, Sammy had always been able to convince him to go to church with him and Jess, saying it would restore his faith. But was it really him restoring faith when he never truly believed in Christianity in the first place?

Those were the thoughts that ran through his mind during a regular workday. He'd listen to Bobby yelling orders at him and end up sliding under a car to give himself a reason to block out his voice without feeling guilty. Sometimes, as ridiculous as it was, he thought that a car would just end up rolling over him, and maybe that would be how he died. Short and simple, no big fuss about being in a hospital for years or anything of that sort. If he had the chance to know what the cause of his death would be, then he would definitely be happier with himself. He would know how long he had to wait until the universe decided to ruin his life. It wouldn't mean he would know what exactly it had in store for him, but to Dean it was a very good start.

The blond let out a loud sigh as he slid out from under his friend, Jo's, car and wiped his hands off on his dark clothes. "Fixed it, as usual," he said, opening his arms proudly. His almost blank expression was replaced with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows jokingly at her. She had been around him since high school, and she was there through everything. Sometimes Dean didn't understand how she could handle being around him for such a long time. He never said anything about it, though. His annoyance in showing emotions just came off as him being too cocky for his family and friends' own good.

"Thank you, Dean. Are you coming over for dinner tomorrow? Mom really wants to see you. Says she's waiting for that 'daughter-in-law' of hers to arrive already," the blonde hummed at him, making Dean roll his eyes and smile softly.

"Yeah, tell her that ain't happening. I have to start buying things for my own place now that Sam and Jess are moving in together. It won't take too long, but I have to go get some new records because their damn dog broke all of mine," he said, scrunching his nose.

"Alright, alright," Jo laughed softly, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Keep your ass out of trouble, Winchester."

"Same applies to you, Harvelle," he sighed, watching her get into her car. He let his eyes follow the vehicle as it pulled out of the garage, making Dean let out a shaky sigh of relief. Bringing up Ellen always made him feel irritated, like there was something he couldn't quite shake off. She had treated Sammy and him like their sons while they were growing up, and she expected Dean to bring back someone just as Sammy did with Jess. But Dean wasn't one to bring back a life partner. Life was short, and he would much rather spend his time between the sheets with a woman he would never have to speak to again than spend his time worrying about another person. He already had his family, and he didn't feel like babysitting anyone else. Sam always said that it wasn't how relationships worked. He would tell Dean that in relationships, both people had to rely on each other. He said that once Dean got into a relationship, life would feel easier for him, because the weight of his responsibility will be shared with the person he loved.

"What a load of bullshit," Dean grumbled to himself, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He let himself change quickly and clean up before locking up the garage and hopping into the Impala. He pulled his phone out quickly as he let one of his tapes blast out music that made his body relax into the seat. It was nine-thirty exactly. After assessing his choices, he decided to drive down to Crowley's bar for a quick dinner, because he was not risking burning down his new apartment with his shitty cooking skills. He patted his baby's steering wheel before he drove off, his mind sinking into thought slowly.

Usually he would allow himself to think about his life, his mind collapsing onto itself as he would try to think why he was so important and why he was being kept around; it felt to him like he was just a puppet waiting for his masters next order. The only thing that made it worse was that unlike a puppet, Dean had emotions. And as much as he hated showing his frustration, it would always slip out, and he'd always end up yelling at someone he loved. Someone who definitely didn't deserve it. Yet they always came back to him, forgiving Dean and telling him that he was acting normal for someone who had to go through the things he did. But tonight, Dean didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about anything. He'd get himself a beer over at Crowley's before heading back home to drown himself in a six-pack.

He huffed out a laugh at the implicit double entendre he set up for himself, but shook his head. That was ridiculous, Dean was very much a straight man, even if he spent his time staring at men at times. It wasn't because he was attracted to them, he knew that much for sure; he was just, well, very self conscious about his own body, and for some reason staring at other guys in the gym made him feel better and shittier at the same time. It was a confusing process, but he didn't think much of it. His mind kept buzzing as he arrived at the bar, and he pulled up in his usual parking spot. He was frozen in his seat for a few minutes and he suddenly realized he arrived. His mind wasn't focusing on any one thing, and it was driving him mad. Well, it was angering him, which was close enough to him acting like he was insane. Or so people would always tell him.

He turned off his car quickly and grabbed his wallet, looking at his reflection in the small mirror and making sure he didn't have any grease stains on his face. However, he gave up eventually, because there was no way he would be able to see any of the dark splotches on his face in the dark car, and he was too lazy to turn on the light. He opened the door and dragged himself out of the car, his legs heavy after the long day at the garage. He'd come in at six in the morning to help Bobby finish up fixing up one of the cars by changing its oil and had planned on leaving an hour earlier than usual, but Ash had called in sick that day and Dean had been lucky enough to be picked to take his place. Fifteen hours of work could do a lot to a man's head. 'At least you get an entire day off tomorrow,' his mind reminded him, and a small grin tugged at Dean's lips. Yes, an entire day off of work. Luckily for him, it was Friday, and he would be able to sleep all day until he got himself to pull his ass out of his bed because he'd told his family he wouldn't be coming to Friday night dinner for a reason.

He stepped through the front door of the bar and let the music practically blow off his ears. Jet's 'Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is' was playing, and as much as Dean loved the song, he couldn't handle the volume. "What's wrong, Winchester? Can't handle a bit of rock music?" Dean turned his attention to the voice behind him, the man's British accent dull and drawled as he approached the blond. "Wasn't expecting you here so late tonight. Rough day at work, Squirrel?"

"Put a beer in my hand and maybe I'll talk to you," Dean replied, his eyes flickering over Crowley before the two started walking to the bar. He fell into one of the stools with a loud huff, thanking the man quietly as he slid a bottle towards him. He looked around him, raising his eyebrows. It was fairly full in the dark space for a Thursday night, and it was making him slightly uncomfortable. "What's the deal with all the people in here?" He asked, cocking his head at Crowley.

"Someone just turned twenty-one, I'm guessing. They all like they're still in college or something."

"Don't you just miss college?" He asked with a dreamy sigh.

"Didn't you drop out of high school or something? Moose keeps on saying he's still trying to convince you to apply for any class you're even slightly interested in."

"Well, it never stopped me from getting invited to parties."

"Please, do keep the details to yourself," the Brit grumbled at the slightly darkened look in Dean's eyes.

"Hah, don't have to ask me twice," he assured him, taking a swig from the beer. "Hey, can I ask you for a favor?"

"Sure. What is it that you need?"

"A bacon cheeseburger with extra bacon."

"I hate you, Winchester."

"To be fair, it _is_ your job."

"Yeah, just shut up." And with that, the man disappeared to get Dean his food. He took this as an excuse to turn around to stare at the people on the dance floor. They were all dancing in a way that made Dean's nose scrunch up, and his mind immediately brought an image of Charlie to the front of all his thoughts. She would have found someone out there; this was something she was suited for more than he was. The only thing he was enjoying was the music, and a small grin tugged at his lips when 'Madness' by Muse started playing. He wasn't one to admit it, but he'd always enjoyed listening to Muse. It was something about their style of music that seemed to calm him down even though the words would dig into his chest like knives. It was a terrible feeling, and yet it was enjoyable at the same time. He turned in his seat as he felt Crowley walk back to the bar. He watched him walk up with his plate, a grin on his lips as he hummed along to the tune as it got towards the chorus. "I have finally seen the light," he sang in an exaggerated voice, watching the Brit roll his eyes at him. "And I have finally realized what you mean."

"Sorry to tell you, Winchester, but I don't have time for your idiocy tonight," he said, almost relieved, once he saw another customer sit down a few seats away from him. "Just… don't break anything," Crowley sighed, giving Dean a stern look.

"Can't promise anything," Dean told him as he took the burger in his hand and took a bite that might have been too big for his own good, because he suddenly forgot how to breathe. He ignored the man as he walked away, slowing down as he breathed through his nose and swallowed the food. He downed his beer quickly, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. He had time. He'd get home late, but that didn't matter since he could sleep in tomorrow.

One of the newer bartenders shot Dean a smirk that made him squirm in his seat slightly, and he had to grab onto his stool to keep himself from falling out. He shot him a smirk of his own in return, and apparently the man decided it would be a good idea to come over to talk to him. He didn't like talking to people while he ate. Dean was about to open his mouth to say something that might make the man want to back out of a conversation from him, but instead the man just picked up the empty bottle of beer. "Do you need another one?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at the blond, and he let out a sigh of relief.

"My hero," he joked with a grin, watching as he walked away. He caught himself openly staring at the way his jeans hung onto his legs and waved the action off as him admiring his leg muscles. It was a shabby excuse, even for him, but for some reason he let himself believe it. The man returned with another bottle after a few moments, and Dean thanked him before returning to wolfing down his food. He finished it faster than he had intended and leaned back just slightly, wiping at his mouth with his flannel's sleeves before taking a swig from his beer and relaxing just a little bit. His eyes wandered off to where Crowley was standing with another customer, and, slowly, he let his eyes go to the man he was talking to. His mouth hung open as he looked at the man with awe, and he quickly closed it once he realized he had beer dribbling out from the corner of his lips. He wiped at his mouth with his flannel once again, and Crowley seemed to notice the look on Dean's face.

"Winchester, should I be worried that your face is so red that it is actually glowing in the dark right now?" The man asked him, drawing the other's attention to Dean as well. He locked eyes with him for a split second and fumbled with his wallet, pulling out money and leaving it on the counter.

"Fuck off, Crowley," he said over the music, glancing at the bright blue eyes one more time before walking out of the bar. He didn't know why he reacted the way he did, but he seemed to be able to focus on one thing now, unlike earlier. The mans eyes. The ones that somehow shone in the dark and made Dean feel like he was drowning only after a tenth of a second of gazing into them. He shook his head violently and speed-walked towards the car, fists clenched at his sides. He wanted to drive home and turn on the TV so he'd relax. So he'd realize he had overreacted, which he knew he obviously did. What, he couldn't handle keeping eye contact with a guy for more than a few seconds? He wasn't a flustered teenager. Sure, his eyes were blue in a way that Dean never saw before, but that was irrational. "It was just a long day," he muttered to himself once he sat down, staring at his steering wheel. He just needed to take his mind off of everything. But he definitely wasn't going to be forgetting about those eyes any time soon.


End file.
